


Who We Are

by JocastaSilver



Series: The Templar and the Blood Mage [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Blood magic phobia, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Immolation, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6515149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JocastaSilver/pseuds/JocastaSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes we have to go through some misunderstandings, before we figure things out. Merrill/Cullen. Soulmate verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who We Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IncessantCalibration](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncessantCalibration/gifts).



> The M rating is just to be on the safe side. This was also partially inspired by Ozhawk and her soulmate shorts.

“I fell in love with you because of the million things you never knew you were doing.”-Unknown  
Cullen groaned when he noted all the paperwork he was required to sign. There were days, he’d wish that he’d said ‘no’ to Meredith’s offer to become her second-in-command, and this was one of them. Moreover, he felt an urge to just leave his office and take a boat across the channel into the city. He felt this urge multiple times over the past two and half years, and learned to ignore it mostly. But it continued to gnaw at him like a gaping hole. On top of that, he managed to sign only four pieces of paper in half an hour.  
“Fine,” Cullen decided. “It’s not as if I’m being very productive today anyways.” He did stop in his room to change into something a little less conspicuous than his templar armor. Catching a boat off the island and into Kirkwall was easy, however, Cullen found himself trapped between rows of people moving in different directions, making it all but impossible to navigate. Muttering insults about whoever’s bright idea it was to make Kirkwall’s streets narrow, he trotted along with no particular destination in mind.  
Wham! He ran right into a black haired elf, and toppled over. His manners kicked in, and right after picking himself up, he offered his hand to the elf. “Sorry about that. I’m usually better at watching my surroundings.”  
Instead of taking his hand, she stood, and brushed dust off of her green and brown clothes. She looked familiar, although he could not place where he had seen her before. “No, thank you, I can manage on my own.” And before he could muster a response, she darted off.  
Cullen swore; he met his soulmate and wasn’t able to formulate any kind of response before she took off. This was a million times worse than the occasion he ran away from Amell when she suggested that they “get to know one another better”.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Merrill sighed. She knew intellectually that it was nothing short of cowardly to run from one’s soulmate. Even if said soulmate was a knight-captain who could have her hauled into the Gallows for the Rite of Tranquility whenever he wanted. She reversed course and descended into Darktown. The lantern in front of Anders’ place was not lit, but Merrill hoped he was still inside; it wasn’t if he had any other social calls at the moment. She knocked on the door several times, firmly.  
“Yes! Yes! I’ll be there in a minute!”  
In fact, it was several minutes before Anders answered the door, dressed in what appeared to be a sleeping robe. In spite of living in Kirkwall for two years, Merrill still could not wrap her mind around some of the human metaphors. They simply did not make sense.  
“Oh,” he stated dismissively. “It’s you. I thought it was Hawke.” He moved to close the door; Merrill clasped one of his rough hands.  
“Please, I have an important question to ask, about one of the templars in the Gallows?”  
The mention of templars woke Anders up. He glanced around to make sure none of the dreaded mage hunters had materialized before replying, “Fine, come in.”  
Anders’ place was even more run-down than her bungalow in the Alienage. He pulled up two chairs that clearly had seen better days. After hesitating for a second, Merrill sat.  
“What exactly do you need to know about them?”  
“Just about one in particular,” Merrill explained. “Knight-captain Cullen Rutherford.”  
Anders snorted. “He was a templar at the Circle I came from, Kinloch Hold. He was one of the few who survived Uldred’s rebellion, before transferring to Gallows. Meredith promoted him over several more experienced Templars.”  
“But what’s he like?” Maybe there was some hope that he could understand her.  
“He’s hardline Chantry,” Anders replied. “Doesn’t even see mages as people. He especially hates blood mages. You would probably do your best to not attract his attention.”  
“Thank you, for the information Anders. Have a good day.” She fled before he could inquire as to why she needed intel on Cullen. Maybe it was better, that her soulmate was out of reach, so Audacity would not decide to use him against her.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Cullen struggled to focus on his duties, which seemed to include more and more paperwork, and less interacting with others. On top of that, he wondered about his soulmate. He suspected, but had no proof, that several of Hawke’s party were mages. While he could question Hawke’s brother Carver, he suspected that doing so would be pointless, because Carver clearly possessed strong loyalty to his family. Instead, he discreetly paid a Chantry informant to gather intel on Merrill (he remembered Hawke referring to her by this name).  
“After all, it might be useful to learn more about Hawke’s companions,” he reasoned.  
Merrill, formerly of the Dalish clan Sabrae. She doesn’t socialize with her neighbors much, but all speak of her as a “sweet, compassionate girl”. There are rumors of her practicing blood magic, but this informant has found them to be libeling and exaggerated. I suggest leaving her alone for the time being as Hawke will not appreciate having one of his mage friends apprehended.  
He spaced out at the words “blood magic”. They brought back dark memories of demons slicing and dicing up his friends as though they were pieces of meat instead of living, breathing people. Cullen forced air into his body and exhale. It was only rumors and here say. After all, why would the Maker assign him a soulmate who collaborated with demons and killed people to fuel her abilities? Then again, the Maker always appeared to have a sense of humor were he was concerned. So, he wrote a note asking Varric to arrange a meeting, preferably in a public place, and got back to his mountains of paperwork.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
“If you don’t want to do this Daisy, I’ll tell him to fuck himself.”  
Merrill laughed slightly; Varric excelled at cheering her up even when things seemed hopeless. Like going to meet with her templar soulmate. “No that’s ok, Varric. It’s probably better that I speak to him now, to clear the air.”  
“If he makes you uncomfortable, just say the word, and I’ll bust you out of there.”  
The location they agreed to meet was the Hanged Man, with its nut shell covered floor and sticky bar counter. Cullen sat at a table in the corner of the room. Instead of his Templar armor, he wore trousers, and a collared shirt. “Um...hi,” he stammered. “I know we didn’t get to talk much last time we met, but I’m Cullen.”  
“I knew that, I’m Merrill, which you probably already knew, considering we both know Hawke.”  
“Yeah, Hawke.”  
“Cullen, I get the feeling that this isn’t a social call, so why are you here? Is this about telling me to keep my distance, because I get it. It would be a scandal if word got at that the knight-captain of Kirkwall’s soulmate is a... well, is someone like me.”  
“No, that’s not it,” Cullen replied. “I just needed to see you. It’s just strange.”  
“Yeah, it is.” Merrill smiled, understanding. With the others, she always had to search for hidden meanings, or innuendos. She understood that Cullen meant that it was strange to meet his soulmate now, of all times.  
“I should probably go back to the Gallows before I’m missed, and there is a mountain of paperwork I need to attend to.”  
“Well, good luck with that.”  
He stood and left, almost as if each step he took away from her pained him.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Cullen lay on the ground, winded. He learned in his studies that blood mages were powerful, but he underestimated the amount of strength that Jowan wielded.  
“You have to believe that I had no idea that he was actually a blood mage!” Amell yelled. He couldn’t even look at his one-time crush, not after she assisted that monster.  
“I’m sorry,” Irving replied.  
“So that’s it, you’re going to make me tranquil just for helping a friend! Then I guess I’ll just have to end this!” And before anyone could restrain her, she set herself on fire. Instead of screaming from the pain, she laughed. Laughed until, her throat was charred with smoke. For a moment, her face changed, and instead of Amell, it was Merrill laughing as she was immolated.  
Cullen woke, with sweat covering his body in a thin sheet. He could not get Merrill out of his mind. The last time she accompanied Hawke, their eyes had met, and Cullen could almost imagine the conversations they might have. “She’s a mage, you’re a templar,” he told himself. “It could never work out.”  
That did not prevent him from wishing that things could be different. However, he couldn’t do anything, just like he’d been helpless to prevent Solona Amell from killing herself.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Merrill was just walking back from the fishmonger’s stall, when she noticed Cullen walking aimlessly around in the same clothes she’d seen him in before. She dodged several people walking in the opposite direction, and linked arms with him. “Keep walking.”  
Cullen flinched slightly but to his credit did not unlink arms and kept walking. Merrill cut through the back alleys cautiously, and it wasn’t until they entered the Alienage that she unlinked arms.  
“Ok, what was that for?” Cullen demanded.  
“You’re wandering around Lowtown without any weapons. Isn’t that suicidal?” Merrill knew this from the lectures Hawke and the others gave her when she first moved to Kirkwall.  
“It’s broad daylight and I just forget.”  
“Well, could you please try and remember next time, because there are people who might take advantage and attack you and I don’t want you to get hurt and….and now I’m babbling. I’m sorry.”  
Cullen actually smiled. “No, I think it’s kind of cute, actually. But what about you, do you carry your staff around all the time? How come no has noticed you?”  
She knew by “no one” he meant other templars. Merrill pulled on a sturdy black rope necklace concealed under her robes, revealing a creamy brown stone. “It’s a charm that makes me look unmemorable, boring. Do you want to come in?” Her neighbors weren’t very nosy, but Merrill did not want to test the limits of their curiosity.  
Indecision warred briefly on Cullen face before he replied. “Sure, but not for too long.”  
She led him into her bungalow, and sat down at the tiny table, wishing that her chairs were a little bigger for Cullen’s sake. He didn’t complain even though his legs were barely touching the chair. “So can I see my words on you?” she finally asked. It was the politest conversation starter given the circumstances.  
Cullen looked relieved. “Sure.” He rolled up a sleeve of his shirt. Merrill squinted and recognized her passable imitation of handwriting.  
“You know I hated learning to write, but the Keeper insisted that I needed to learn in order to communicate with humans.”  
“Handwriting wasn’t my favorite thing to learn when I was young either.”  
They both laughed, realizing that in spite of the gulf of differences between them, they did have something in common. Even if that something was disliking learning to write.  
“So... um where are my words on you?”  
Merrill blushed, and pulled her boots and socks. “It’s on my right leg.”  
Cullen squinted and smiled. “Yeah, the Chantry was pretty strict about us writing legibly. Not that your handwriting isn’t nice,” he hastily added.  
“It’s all right, I’m well aware that my handwriting is more or less illegible. It’s not like I have anyone to write to.”  
“So, where are you from?” Cullen inquired.  
“Well, that’s a long answer. I’m originally from Nevarra, but I don’t remember it much. Honestly I consider myself to be from Fereldon. That’s where I grew up.”  
“So why did you move?”  
“The clan I was originally born into already had two mages besides the Keeper, so I was given to Sabrae.”  
“That’s sad,” Cullen said. “That you haven’t seen your parents since you were young.”  
Merrill simply shrugged. “I didn’t know them that well. To be honest, I always considered my Keeper to be more of a mother.”  
“And now you live here in the Alienage, away from your clan?” There was nothing accusatory in his tone, only curiosity.  
“My Keeper and I had a disagreement. So do you want to stay for dinner?” She added the last part, because she did not want him wandering Lowtown, alone without a weapon to defend himself.  
He stayed for dinner, and pair compared and contrasted the different parts of Fereldon they’d grown up in. Cullen slept in her bed, while Merrill took a chair. In the morning, he left, after Merrill convinced him to take one of her daggers. As he left, she reflected that it was nice to have a friendship of sorts with someone who wasn’t Hawke or the rest of his merry band. But how could she hold onto to this before it all fell apart?  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
“You seem happy today,” Thrask noted.  
“It is a nice day,” Cullen replied, and to be fair it was one of those days where the sun was shining brightly, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. However, for Cullen, getting to know his soulmate was part of the reason for his happiness. He knew, of course, that loving a mage was dividing his loyalties between her and the Templar Order, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. It wasn’t as if he was supporting insurrection against the Chantry; he just hadn’t informed superiors of his friendship with a mage. Besides, while friendships between templars and mages were discouraged, they weren’t uncommon.  
“Just be careful, you know how strict Meredith is. I would hate to see you get hurt.” That was a surprising truth, that Thrask cared about his welfare when by all rights, he should have been knight-captain instead of Cullen.  
“Thanks for your concern,” he replied. “I’ll endeavor to be careful. I have no intention of breaking the rules or getting in trouble with Meredith.” He wasn’t breaking the rules, just stretching them a little bit. It was what told himself to assuage the guilt that gnawed at him: for lying about his secret friendship with a mage, who also happened to be his soulmate; for sitting back and letting Meredith rule this place with an iron fist. There was only so long he could balance this thin cliff line, before he went careening into the abyss.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
“No.”  
“Varric please.” She attempted to assume the expression of “sweet adorable elf who needed to be protected”.  
Varric didn’t fall for her bait. “The answer is still ‘no’. I’m not protecting this asshole templar, just because you’ve taken all leave of your senses.” They both sat in Varric’s tiny room in the Hanged Man, away from prying eyes. Merrill sat on the one chair, while Varric lay on top of his messy bed.  
Merrill sighed; it was time to play her trump car. “Varric! He’s my soulmate!”  
Varric muttered some curses under his breath. “As if that’s supposed to make me feel better. Having a soulmate isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Daisy.”  
Merrill sensed that Varric was speaking from personal experience. However, she knew that there was no use in attempting to mine information from him. “You keep an eye on him, and I’ll stop cutting through the back alleys of Lowtown late at night.”  
She met his gaze with confidence until he finally caved. “Fine, you’ve got yourself a deal, Daisy.”  
They shook on it, and Merrill hoped she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life (aside from bargaining with a demon).  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Cullen wasn’t having a good day, with the Qunari deciding to ravage the entire city. On top of that, he’d somehow gotten separated from his tag team of templars and mages. He tripped and his opponent stood poised to kill him, when suddenly a powerful blast knocked the warrior backward, and into a sharp piece of fence. Cullen turned startled, and came face to face with Merrill. She was glowing, like an avatar of Andraste, beautiful and deadly. “Thank you,” he stammered.  
Merrill gave him a faint smile. “Don’t mention it.”  
Just then, several more of the Arishok’s men attacked, and Cullen threw himself back into battle. He was pleased to note that his and Merrill’s fighting styles complimented each other well. She blasted their foes from a distance, covering him until he was able to stab and hack them with his sword.  
Suddenly, Merrill fell back, swearing Elven curses, and one of the warriors snuck past his defenses, and slashed. Cullen winced, but managed to dodge the next attack. A pulse knocked out his opponent, and he quickly finished the ox man off. He turned and flinched. Merrill stood, shaking slightly with blood dripping from her hand. Blood magic.  
“Stay away from me!” he screamed, trying to block out the memories of the abominations massacring his friends.  
“Cullen, please, I can explain!” There was a desperate, fearful look on her face as if he were the monster.  
Apart of him wanted to hear her explanation, but it was overpowered by his own fear. “Just stay away from me!” Cullen darted away into the battle, trying to put some distance between himself and his blood mage soulmate.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Merrill was miserable for the first week after the Qunari invasion. She also worried that Cullen was going to report her for her “evil blood magic”. Fortunately, he hadn’t for whatever reason. Hawke and the others noted her sadness, but either didn’t know the reason for it, or in Varric’s case, were too tactful to bring it up. She got better, or at least, she didn’t feel like she was going to burst into tears any time she thought about Cullen. At least, she was fine until her Keeper decided to become host to Audacity, and the rest of the clan banished her.  
“Daisy, open this door now! We just want to talk!” Varric could never understand how utterly she’d failed to see the truth of her own darkness and her Keeper paid the price.  
“I say we let the witch drown in her own sorrows!” Fenris suggested. Honestly, Merrill never understood what Hawke saw in the prejudiced, mean elf.  
“Because it would be so much easier for you if there was one less mage in the world!” Anders yelled. Wow, she’d never thought Anders would be defending her, considering he constantly berated her blood magic use. Then again, he probably liked having an excuse to scream at Fenris.  
Silence fell as they crept away from her door. Merrill buried her head in her hands. Suddenly, she heard the door creak open, and Cullen stood before her. She wanted to say so many things: that she loved him, that she understood why he hated her. “I’m sorry,” she said instead.  
“Varric kind of gave me an earful about how you don’t sacrifice anyone to fuel your magic, how you’re just trying to help your people reclaim their heritage.”  
She shook. “You were right Cullen; I am a monster.”  
“No you’re not.” He didn’t even ask her what happened; he just gently held her until her sobs subsided.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
He’d watched as Meredith descended into madness, and tried to arrest the Champion of Kirkwall. Sure, he’d relieved her of her title, but he couldn’t help thinking that his efforts, came far too late to prevent so many atrocities. Hawke was flanked by his white haired lover, and his brother Carver. Merrill stood by herself. Cullen wanted to say something, anything.  
In a flurry of movement, Merrill raced forward and hugged him tightly. He returned the hug, ignoring the whispers of his people. “Be careful ma vhenan,” she whispered, before gently disengaging herself and rejoining Hawke.  
It wasn’t until several weeks later, when the excitement died down, and he accustomed himself to his new position as Knight-Commander that he looked up what Merrill said to him. Ma vhenan simply meant, ‘my heart’. Cullen let himself cry alone in his room, bound to an order he wasn’t certain he wanted to be a part of anymore, and his own heart tied to a pretty elven mage.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
“Are you sure you want to do this, Daisy?” Varric asked yet again. They were walking along Skyhold, and Merrill noted that it was the largest concentration of mages she’d observed outside of a Circle.  
“I owe him at least one more chat Varric.” Merrill was also curious to see how different he would be now that lyrium no longer held sway over him. Now that she no longer practiced blood magic, the scars on her wrists were starting to fade. She also felt happier with herself, now that she focused more on the present and the future, instead of obsessing about the past.  
“Hey Curlie, I’ve got a visitor for you!” Varric yelled.  
There he was, wearing armor with a lion skin surrounding his neck. There were circles under his eyes, but he looked happier. As if a weight had been lifted off of him. Moreover, the scent of lyrium that she’d detected on his breath before was no longer present. “You look lovely Merrill.”  
She blushed a little. “Well, you look nice too especially since I can’t smell lyrium on your breath anymore. How are you doing without it?”  
“It hasn’t been easy, but I’m learning to live without it.”  
“I’ve stopped using blood magic,” Merrill blurted out. She knew that in order to move forward, she needed to address the giant halla in the room, as it were.  
“What?!”  
“I’ve stopped using blood magic. After what happened at Kirkwall, I decided it wasn’t worth the risks.”  
“Yes I heard you the first time. Are you going to be ok?” Cullen look genuinely concerned which made Merrill’s heart soar.  
“It’s like said with your lyrium thing, it’s not easy, but I’m happier now that I’m not dependent on a dangerous school of magic.” She paused before adding, “I’m actually interested in joining up with your Inquisition.”  
“Technically, it’s not my Inquisition, but I can introduce you to Trevelyan.”  
“And maybe we could talk, sometimes.”  
Cullen smiled. “I’d like that.”  
“All right, all right! We get it! You two love each other!” Varric grumbled.  
“I’ll go get something to eat with Varric, since he’ll probably explode if he waits any longer,” Merrill joked.  
“Well we can’t have that.”  
As Varric complained about the tavern’s food, she reflected that maybe this was an opportunity to really get to know her soulmate without anything standing between them. And that was the greatest gift of all.


End file.
